darkestelemental616:

merindab:

darkestelemental616:

Sam lost the head hunting a werewolf a week later. He’d left it in the room, and they’d ended up staying out all night trying to find the monster. By the time they’d managed to stumble back to the motel, bloody and exhausted, Sam’s bed showed clear signs of disturbance and the bag he’d kept Jack’s head in was ripped wide open. 

“Jack?!” He ran over to his bed, exhaustion forgotten as he tore the covers aside, trying to find any sign of Jacks’s remains. “Dean! His head’s gone!" 

Dean, hard as he tried, couldn’t muster up the energy to care as much as Sam clearly did. “Dude. We’re both hurt. Let’s focus on that, then we start looking, okay?”

Sam just stared at him. “It’s Jack. When he comes back, he’s gonna need us to be there. Don’t you care about that?” 

"For God’s sake, Sam, focus on us first! Salt line’s not broken, and the sigils are still in one piece, so whatever it was, it’s probably nothing dangerous. We’re gonna run a sweep, rest up, and look later.” 

Sam’s lips thinned. He said nothing more as he picked up his shotgun and headed back out of the door, slamming it behind him. 

Dean stared at the door. With a sigh he wiped his hands on his pants and collected their bags. It didn’t take too long to find Sam angrily walking down the side of the road. Of course nobody was going to pick him up this time of night and looking like that.

"Come on, Dude, get in the car.”

Sam ignored him and kept walking as Dean drove slowly along.

“Look,” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “He always come back, right? He memorized your number. He’ll call.”

Sam turned towards him, furious. “Yeah, he’ll call when he’s screaming in pain as his body tries to put itself back together.”

Dean was surprised, Jack had never really told him much about himself. “Is it that bad?”

“Yeah, Dean, it’s that’s bad.”

[#I LOVE THE IDEA OF DEAN DRIVING SLOWLY TRYING TO GET SAM’S ATTENTION #SAM #SAM STOP BEING A BITCH#AND SAMS LIKE SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU JERK I’M GONNA TELL JACK YOU USED HIS HEAD AS A GODDAMN SOCCER BALL #NO BUT SAM KEEP CONSTANT TABS ON JACK’S HEAD #AND LIKE UNCONSCIONSLY HE’S ALWAYS REACHING OUT TO TOUCH IT #MAKE SURE ITS THERE #SO HE KNOWS THE SECOND ITS GONE #OH GOD MY HEART  

these tags mean we’re doin’ it right awww yeah]

Dean gulped. He’d been lucky enough to miss Jack’s resurrections, so he knew next to nothing about it, and his and Sam’s had always been instantaneous. But Jack’s weren’t, and between the two of them, Sam was the expert.

“Okay, I get the point. Get in the car,” he said hoarsely. “We’re getting back to the hotel and getting cleaned up and packed, and then we’re gonna find Jack." 

——

Jack finally found himself dragged back to consciousness, oddly pain-free and almost warm. 

"…Sam?”

“Not exactly.” A young brunette leaned over him, smiling gently. “You can call me Eve, actually.”

Jack started to sit up and found himself cuffed. “Well that’s not usually how I start a relationship.” He looked past her and frowned at the….people? creatures?

“Where am I? What do you want with me? Where are the Winchesters?”

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